


on the rocks, under the moonlight

by wolfgun



Category: Tales of Berseria, Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Also kinda angsty, Dragon sex, Interspecies Sex, M/M, i know what im about son... do you?, mmm draggofuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 03:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfgun/pseuds/wolfgun
Summary: Zaveid sighs into the humid air, leaning forward and staring at the fronds of grass in between his boots that shiver in the wind. He raises his eyes to those craggy peaks that span in front of him, the very points disappearing into a thick cloud cover where, among them, his friend was sure to be. He flicks his wrist, and Siegfried’s metal glints coldly in the heat; he thinks, not for the first time, that he’s a right damn coward for not being able to fulfill a promise.[Zaveid gets drunk, ends up in front of Eizen... and, well.]





	on the rocks, under the moonlight

Zaveid sighs into the humid air, leaning forward and staring at the fronds of grass by his boots that shiver in the wind. He raises his eyes to those craggy peaks that span in front of him, the very points disappearing into a thick cloud cover where, among them, his friend was sure to be. He flicks his wrist, and Siegfried’s metal glints coldly in the heat; he thinks, not for the first time, that he’s a right damn coward for not being able to fulfill a promise.

 

{--+--}

 

He stumbles out of the tavern only slightly aware of where the ground lays beneath his feet--It’s that point in time, where he exists as only a gust of wind, a whisper to those whose sixth sense still lingers--but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

 

Zaveid relies on the wind to take him, the path too dark in front and the moon too bright overhead; and for once, he doesn’t say a word. He lets his mind wander, back to the days when the most important person in his life was still around--when that sturdy shoulder would hold him up after he did himself in, or when he wanted to be done in.

 

He doesn’t quite realize where he is until there’s a great flourish of air and accompanying pressure, and a pair of golden eyes is peering right at him through the darkness. Right into him. His stomach churns, even as the blood rushes to his head.

 

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that!” Zaveid yells, pointing, fingers still wrapped around a bottle. He regards it for a brief moment, and sighs, noticing it was the brand Eizen liked best. “Stupid rock-for-brains,” he mutters, throwing the half-full liquor and watching it shatter right in front of a claw. The glass glimmers in the moonlight.

 

“This is your fault! I can’t even enjoy a good chick’s company because of you,” Zaveid continues, teetering, reaching for the gun, “‘cos I can’t get it up! And all this--it’s all gonna end today! Forever! You big, ugly lizard!” He reaches for Siegfried, fumbling with the holster, and makes a triumphant sound when the buckle pops open. But when he finally aims the gun right in between those familiar eyes…

 

He realizes he’s holding another bottle of liquor. This time, it’s a brand that Zaveid likes.

 

“What the… ?” He pats himself down, even as the dragon watches calmly, eyes following the seraph as he flounders. He straightens. “Well, you! I’ll, uh… I’ll be back, with your demise! You won’t live another day, you scaly bastard! Huh! You hear me, Eizen!?” He curses himself lightly, having gotten drunk enough to leave Siegfried somewhere, memory hazy.

 

“I’ll have to retrace my steps,” he slurs to himself, wobbling around, “not to mention if anyone stole the damn thing I’ll have to fucking… hunt them down… damnit. I can’t even keep our promise…” He twists off the cap of the bottle he’s holding and takes a swig. The liquid burns down his throat.

 

“Fuck!” He stops abruptly, raising his fist high, liquor sloshing onto the dirt; but can’t quite bring himself to get his arm to move, to smash the bottle into the earth beneath his feet. As he hesitates, a long tongue wraps around his arm and pulls at him, and Zaveid can only let himself stumble as the bottle is pried from his grip. Eizen takes the bottle into his maw, and swallows. Or at least, Zaveid thinks he does. He’s never seen a dragon swallow.

 

“Hey! You asshole! You won’t let me have anything to myself, huh, will ya!” Zaveid rants at Eizen, stomping towards him. “You just had to take that away, huh? What, is it because I smashed yours!?” The dragon only raises its head, puffing a cloud of smoke from his nostrils and engulfing Zaveid. He coughs violently, waving his hand in the air, and only has a chance to take a deep breath before Eizen’s tongue wraps around his torso.

 

And then the dragon spreads his wings, beating them against the dirt and lifting them slowly into the air. That sobers Zaveid up quick.

 

“Hey, Eizen--What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” He doesn’t expect a response, because dragons can’t talk--but it’s still infuriating. “Put me down! You asshole!” Zaveid struggles even as Eizens tongue wraps tighter, moving across to secure his legs as well. He doesn’t know where Eizen is going, but they rise above the cloud cover--where the moon is shining unobscured.

 

Zaveid complains the whole way--muttering about Eizen’s tongue and wriggling unsuccessfully, goosebumps raising at the way it feels against his skin and moves against the fabric of his pants. It’s not long before Zaveid is being tossed onto the ground, the world around him blending until it comes to an unceremonious halt. Eizen’s wings stir up the loose dirt in the small clearing, but finally, it settles.

 

The seraph huffs as he rolls onto his back, eyes focusing on the bright, full moon overhead and the twinkling of the stars. There’s a beat of silence, and then Eizen’s scales are scraping against the rocks, and Zaveid closes his eyes.

 

This is how he’ll die, at the claws of the only man he’d truly ever loved. Albeit, it wasn’t _quite_ the person he remembers, but… when Zaveid opens his eyes, he’s a bit spooked to find those golden irises just staring into him.

 

“Uh,” Zaveid starts, eloquently, as Eizen’s gaze remains unwaveringly fixed on him. He thinks, for a brief moment, he sees something of a _spark_ in those depths, but he’s really fucking shitfaced, so that’s debatable at best.

 

He props himself up on his elbows, clearing his throat, wondering why he’s still alive--when Eizen moves. In one swift motion, his tongue flicks from Zaveid’s ankles to his chest, and he grunts in surprise. The dragon still eyes him, as if curious, and Zaveid glares back, trying to ignore the particular way that made him feel.

 

After all… this is a _dragon._

 

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doing, huh?” Zaveid shields himself as Eizen takes a half-step forward, puffing out another bought of smoke--this time, though, it’s sudden enough to force Zaveid back. The tongue swipes at him again, and he maybe has a hint of what Eizen’s getting at. “What--” he growls, even as Eizen’s tongue cuts him off yet again.

 

Though this time, it catches on Zaveid’s belt; and he only has a fleeting, hazy thought of how that tongue is actually really _strong_ when a groan escapes his throat. By now, his boner is both apparent to himself _and_ Eizen, which can either be a really good thing--or, y’know, not so good. Do dragons particularly like dick? Maybe it’s a delicacy. He’s really drunk.

 

The tongue slides into his waistband, and the _feeling_ of it shocks him slightly--it’s not anything he’s ever felt--which makes sense, because who the fuck gets this up close and personal with a dragon? Apparently only him; it’s hot, a little too hot--not to mention wet and rough. Not like he didn’t notice it earlier--but it’s a lot different when--

 

He makes a sudden grunt and arches as Eizen takes another step forward, still watching, though instead of narrowed into dangerous slits, the pupils have expanded considerably, almost consuming the gold. Zaveid is captured by the darkness in those depths--but then the tongue moves against his cock, and he gasps, cursing loudly.

 

“You’re pretty damn… sly,” Zaveid huffs, as his pants get pushed down further, and blames it on the alcohol if he spreads his legs a little wider. But right now, something in his mind is telling him that this isn’t the same dragon he’s met all those other days--the same form, same body, same golden eyes--all those, they weren’t Eizen.

 

The tongue wraps around his length, swirling, and the tip of it moves down further, teasing his balls. Zaveid groans, tensing, wondering for a second if this is just some weird dream. But the moon above him is full and--well, he’s pretty sure his mind isn’t creative enough to make something like this up. Eizen’s breath rushes over his stomach, warming the air around them, even as sweat collects in between Zaveid’s shoulder blades.

 

Eizen’s tongue continues, and Zaveid can’t help but thrust lightly into his grip, letting out a low sound. The texture of the tongue is coarse; but it’s also wet, and hot, and it’s the alcohol, the alcohol, the alcohol.

 

“Fuck, Eizen,” Zaveid pants, and thrusts again. Those golden eyes are watching, ever so calmly, and Zaveid meets them. The way they flash under the moonlight--there’s no way it isn’t Eizen.

 

Suddenly, Eizen removes his tongue completely, the roughness of the motion making Zaveid moan. But then the air hits him, and he shivers.

 

“Hey, what the fuck?” He sits up, watching Eizen as he flicks his tongue in and out, like a lizard. Well, he is a huge-ass lizard, but--”You’re not gonna finish what you started?” Eizen snorts out a puff of smoke, his eyes narrowing, and his tongue flicks out again, running over Zaveid’s thigh. But instead of wrapping around his dick, it runs past. Zaveid now understands why Eizen pulled his tongue back--as it starts to slide in between his ass cheeks.

 

Without preamble, the muscle presses in, and Zaveid groans loudly; throwing his head back and trying not to sound like he’s dying. Eizen lets out a pleased rumble, and Zaveid can’t help but chuckle lightly. He always did like to see Zaveid come undone.

 

But then Eizen’s tongue completely fills him, and Zaveid is reminded again, that his best friend-turned-dragon is--well, a dragon. He gasps aloud as Eizen starts to move, gritting his teeth to keep from being too loud. But Eizen doesn’t want to lose, and eagerly moves the rest of his tongue to wrap once again on Zaveid’s cock.

 

And both of those sensations, with Eizen pumping him and fucking him--it’s enough for Zaveid to finally abandon any hope of swallowing his noises. Zaveid’s head lolls to the side, and he looks up at Eizen; and it must be his muddled mind, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it’s possible for Eizen to come back. To be a seraph again.

 

To be together again.

 

But then Eizen’s tongue hits him at an angle and it feels so good that he shouts; the tongue moves faster, harder, to draw more of that out of Zaveid, and _fuck_ him, Zaveid lets it happen.

 

His nails dig into the ground as he arches, and it only takes a few more seconds for him to come, spilling all over Eizen’s tongue. Zaveid’s body relaxes, and he stares up at the moon as Eizen lets out another rumble, this one sounding more like a laugh than anything. He retracts his tongue, cleaning up the seraph as he does, and after all that, Zaveid glances down at the dragon, who has Eizen’s eyes, Eizen’s power, Eizen’s very mind.

 

“Eizen,” he whispers as the high fades, and Eizen comes forward, lowering his scaly chin and resting on Zaveid’s stomach. He blows out softly, and Zaveid sighs as the heated air envelops his skin. “That just makes me colder.” The dragon sniffs, pupils now contracting slightly, revealing more of that gold.

 

Zavied sits up when he has the energy to, and then runs a palm against Eizen’s muzzle; those the dragon’s eyes snap open, taking in Zaveid.  A cloud moves across the moon, engulfing them in darkness, and Zaveid pauses. The pupils shrink into tight slits, and Zaveid feels the change in attitude; he no longer sees that familiar sparkle, and shuffles backward.

 

The dragon lifts its head and spreads its wings; roaring loud and deep, the sound echoing across the mountains, and Zaveid suppresses a shiver. He thinks he’s going to be eaten,  but then the dragon beats its wings--steady, reverberating the air around him like a drum, just like the pounding in Zaveid’s chest--and then, just like that, he’s gone. Zaveid catches his pants before they blow off the clearing into the abyss below, and watches his best friend--his rival--his lover--soaring off into the night.

 

“See ya,” he says, breath billowing out in a cloud that curls steadily upward; and tugs on his pants. It’s difficult to do, since he _was_ just fucked--but eventually, he gets the wind to help him hobble down the mountain. The moonlight washes back over the rocky ridge, and Zaveid looks up at it, squinting. Then, he turns around, hands in his pockets, wishing that dragon hadn’t swallowed that bottle of liquor.

 

He really needs to find Siegfried.

**Author's Note:**

> HOO HOO HOO
> 
> for a friend over on twitter. i'm sorry mom.


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